


Hell, maybe.

by therisingmoon



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:50:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therisingmoon/pseuds/therisingmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mind is too hazy for him to think clearly, but Sylar knows from the pain alone that it's not good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell, maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, idk what this is, it's been lingering on my hard drive for a while.  
> I think I was going to expand this a bit, but I can only visualize this bit clearly enough to write it down.
> 
> Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, no copyright infringement intended. Written just for fun.

Sylar’s head is throbbing as he drifts into consciousness. His head is still a little foggy as his vision starts to clear. He tries to get up, but it’s quickly evident that he’s strapped down to a table. He tries to use his telekinesis to break free of the straps, but it isn’t working. This, combined with the fact that his head is still clouded and hazy, means there’s something or someone deliberately blocking his abilities. He tries to wiggle his hand, but his fingers aren’t even lifting off the table. His vision clears just enough to see the IV needle attached to his hand and arm but he blacks out again as the drugs' effects regain their power over him.

*

“Gabriel,” a voice says, calling him back into consciousness. “Gabriel,” the voice repeats.

Sylar groans as his head aches in pain as he blinks. “Sylar,” he mumbles. “M’name Sylar.”

The now-clearly female voice lets out a light laugh. “Wake up, Gabriel.” The light in the room is bright as he opens his eyes. A head comes into his line of vision as it obscures the bright glares of the lamp above them. As his eyes refocus and the face looking down at him becomes clearer, Sylar’s eyes widen and he wonders if he’s in Hell after all. 

“….Elle?” he finally croaks out.

Elle smiles as her hand gently strokes Sylar’s rough and unshaven face. Her voice is sugary and gentle. “Hi, baby.”

*

Sylar is at a loss for words for the first time in his life. Elle’s dead; that’s a fact clear as day. He murdered her and burned her body. So what in the blue fuck is she doing here? Alive? 

“You’re…,” he croaks before lapsing into a coughing fit. Elle tips his head up as she pours some water into his mouth, wiping away the excess water. He swallows the refreshing water as he began to regain his breath. “You’re dead.”

Elle smiles again. “As a doornail,” she coos as she continues stroking circles into his face. Her nails seem to get sharper with each stroke and he flinches. “Don’t worry, Gabriel. I’m here to help you.” Her expression is soft and loving as she leans down to kiss him. Her expression reminds him of the day she came into his shop. Unlike that day, however, Sylar knows that there is something more sinister in store for him. Perhaps he’s in Hell, after all.

*

He drifts in and out of consciousness every day. He doesn't remember how long he's been out, but Elle never fails to appear. But he knows by now, she's a harbinger of the torture and pain that follows. A light touch of her finger against his skin, her voice soothing as she reassures him that she loves him. "Don't worry, honey," she coos as her nails prick his skin. "It's only going to hurt a little bit."


End file.
